The CleanSweep Conspiracy (13 page)

“Someone has to stand up to the hoodlums,” Winston said smoothly, and the others harrumphed in agreement. “Decades of permissive parenting have led us to this point. It’s time to remind the spoiled
-
rotten youth that their party is over.”

“Hear, hear,” Spencer said with a self
-
important sputter.

“That was the background. Now watch what comes next,” Claussen said, resuming the video.

The hymn “How Great Thou Art” began playing in the background, the perfect, uplifting soundtrack to underscore how Claussen’s plan would rescue society from itself. He smiled inwardly, knowing the others wouldn’t appreciate the parody of this musical choice. Research by a noted musicologist had pointed out the similarities of that great hymn to the “Horst Wessel Lied,” the infamous Nazi rallying song. A careful listener could recognize the parallels between the two melodies. Claussen thought it was the perfect touch
—
his evil plan camouflaged by a great religious hymn.

The music rose in volume as blueprints and renderings began to appear. The voice
-
over described new construction and plans for the modification of existing buildings as the video displayed scenes bathed in a warm glow. People could be seen strolling along beautiful walkways threading through landscaped atria.

“The centerpiece of CleanSweep,” the voice
-
over stated, “will be the headquarters for our new national security service. CleanSweep will be built in the downtown core.” An image of a multistory, glass
-
and
-
chrome building filled the screen.

Charles put the display on pause again. “I studied the strategy Disney used in Central Florida in the early 1960s. They secretly purchased land over an extended period of time. Nobody knew who the buyer was. They were able to outmaneuver speculators, and the secret for the amusement park was carefully guarded until they made the official announcement that established Walt Disney World near Orlando. I did the same, and I’ve had a team clandestinely negotiating for the past five years.” He paused for effect. “Now we can put that real estate to good use, for a change.”

He restarted the video.

The scene shifted from renderings of the headquarters building to structures in another location. “This is an example of one of the planned intake centers,” the voice
-
over went on, in a perceptibly excited tone. The music in the background now transitioned to the soothing, repetitive melody of a Philip Glass composition.

“We make sure the buildings are constructed to the highest security standards, without sacrificing detainee comfort. Each inmate can expect clean accommodations,” the voice
-
over explained as a picture of dormitory rooms appeared on the screen. “Each person can expect a plain but healthy meal. You will, however, note the absence of luxury items. This is intentional.”

“For example,” the voice went on, “there will be strategically placed, flat
-
screen, high
-
definition TV screens, but they will broadcast only educational messages and important announcements. Sorry, detainees,” the voice added in the manner of a sports commentator giving a play
-
by
-
play, “you won’t be watching any games or movies on
these
televisions.”

Claussen’s demonstration video showed a variety of ways to transport inmates from place to place. “The buses will be wrapped with the CleanSweep logo and graphics, windows tinted to thwart anyone trying to look in. No onlookers need to be bothered by the sight of undesirable people being transported.”

A streetcar image filled the screen as the voice
-
over continued. “Specially designed trolleys have also been wrapped with graphics. Like the buses, they all have controlled entrances and exits, to make sure the vehicles are secured against escape.”

The next video showed a passenger train. Gone were the familiar VIA Rail logos. This train also had windows that screened the passengers from the view of curious onlookers. It would depart from a dedicated quay near the railroad terminal and would not stop until it reached a top
-
secret location. “A reeducation camp,” the voice
-
over intoned.

An aerial shot zoomed over a wilderness site as the voice
-
over explained, “This is a facility designed for reforming misbehavior, a place where we can shape detainees’ reestablishment, eventually returning them to society as contributing members.”

The view on the screen was a flyover of a large facility under construction. “This hush
-
hush location will be known only to a few during the planning stage. It is designed as a place where internees can develop healthy bodies and healthy minds, free from the influence of insect
-
like human parasites that breed in today’s urban milieu.”

The four men around the table watched the final segue, back to a view of a classical capitol building. An army officer in dress uniform was standing proud, his hands behind his back at parade rest. As the camera panned to a waving flag, a rousing rendition of the national anthem played while credits scrolled on the screen. Claussen turned the player off, and each man sat in quiet contemplation. He could read their faces. They had just been given a glimpse of the future
—
and were pleased with what they saw.

“Impressive,” Winston said finally. “What about the details, Charles? What about that place where the Devil hides?”

“Where
is
that camp?” Waverly interrupted, insistent. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

“The details are on this flash drive, gentlemen,” Claussen said. He held it up, clutched in his hand. “I can assure you the plans have been thoroughly vetted. I can swear to you I have gone over them personally, and the details were polished until the last
i
was dotted and the final
t
was crossed.”

He picked up a glass, looked at the wine remaining in it, and took a satisfied swallow before continuing. “The camp, my dear Waverly, was built with my own money. My construction team will keep the secret. It was constructed in a place where the need for formalities like building permits don’t exist. Let me put it this way: the construction workers had to travel far to the south to warm up after they were finished.”

That brought out a hearty laugh.

“You really expect to rehabilitate those people?” Spencer Abbot wanted to know.

“Impossible,” Waverly insisted.

“Gentlemen.” Claussen held up his hand and smirked. “I left out one or two small details. The site was designed with
…
” He paused to think of the right words. “How can I put this? I have planned for certain ‘disposal facilities.’ Certainly the four of us are realists. We know that many of these people are beyond redemption.”

“Let’s take a break and return to the fire to enjoy some more wine. We can look at the rest of the details later, Charles.” They all stood at Overstreet’s suggestion.

Claussen realized this was the same as fishing. He could tell by their eyes that they had swallowed the bait. Now he had to carefully reel them in, taking care to keep them on the hook until they were safely in his net.

It was late when they returned to the table, but they were eager to get another session in before the evening ended.

“Terrific! Absolutely brilliant.” Spencer’s words were slurred from the wine. “That’s an outstanding video. My board of directors would love to see a video making Spencer Enterprises look that good.” He made it sound like the joke it wasn’t.

Waverly offered a different critique as he waved his wineglass with a gesture that conveyed arrogance. It was a practiced motion, one he used to impress his political devotees
—
as well as rivals. It had little effect on the other three men in the room, but they tolerated one another’s mannerisms. They needed Waverly’s political connections
—
especially his access to the treasury.

“Sir Richard always looks like he has a broomstick jammed up his backside,” Winston had confided to Claussen two weeks earlier. “Still, we need him.”

“He’s sold his soul to get elected and reelected. His deal with the Devil will pay off for our project now,” Claussen said. “You and I, Spencer, we earned our money. When we spend it, it’s gone, and we have to go back to work if we want more. But Waverly keeps filling his pockets with taxpayer money. For him, taxpayers are a gift that keeps on giving.”

Unlike Spencer, Waverly was completely lucid, seemingly unaffected by the wine. His glass was still nearly full, Claussen noted.

“Your people would do Hollywood proud, Claussen, but the video is just that: a moving picture. A fantasy. I need details if I am going to recommend funding.”

Claussen thought,
You’re salivating at this prospect, you pompous ass. You’ll be the easiest fish of all to reel in.

Claussen turned to the host. “Let’s get some much
-
needed sleep. I’ll have the rest of the presentation ready for tomorrow morning. We will need our wits about us. Waverly,” he said, his tone close to a sneer, “you will get all the particulars you need
—
and then some.”

CHAPTER 17

Breakfast with Friends

T
he group of four basked in the glow of the early morning sunrise. They sat around a table in the conservatory, where the glass panes had been tinted to mute the light. Ulrich served breakfast with consummate skill; coffee refills and additional portions were placed before the guests without their even being aware of his presence. Plush carpeting softened his footsteps. At a nod from Winston, the majordomo made a final sweep of the table, gently removing all the plates and flatware, but leaving the cups and a carafe of hot, delicious coffee. Winston insisted on a robust blend, shipped in weekly from a company that roasted specialty coffees. The manager of the coffee company personally attended to his order’s roasting and shipping. That made sense: Winston wanted to make sure he always had the very best coffee, so he’d bought the company.

Claussen peered at his comrades over the rim of his cup. He savored the taste and enjoyed the moment. He was about to reveal the final details of Project CleanSweep. If this day went as planned, he would be able to begin implementation within weeks, if not days.

The highly caffeinated brew he was drinking, combined with his nervous tension, raised his heart rate perceptibly; he could feel his entire body pulsing, in fact.

He was ready.

“Gentlemen,” he said, placing his cup down, “I promised you further details. But before we begin
…
” He lifted the leather attaché case and put it on the table. It was the case he had never let out of his sight. The fasteners opened with a click, and he raised the lid. He removed an electronic device the size of a compact digital camera. He extended an antenna and turned the gadget on.

“This was simple to make. And after thinking about the radio Winston uses to communicate with the kitchen, I want to guarantee that we will have no eavesdropping. You are about to hear critical, sensitive details. Various people on my staff were assigned to various parts of CleanSweep’s development, but only I have the
entire
picture. By the time we break for lunch, the four of us will hold the future in our grasp.” He paused for effect and looked at each of the other three men in turn.

Winston sat back in his chair, trying to look nonchalant. Spencer likewise gave the impression of trying to be casual, but his eyes gave him away
—
Charles saw the intense look of a predator reflected in his bright eyes. His bleary
-
eyed appearance of the night before had been replaced with keen interest in what he was about to hear.

Charles looked across the table at Waverly and saw a man who would do anything to stay in office. He knew Waverly had built his political empire in the shadows. He was power incarnate
—
free from public scrutiny and free of the wearisome check of the media. The sneer from last night was gone, replaced by a palpable desire to increase his power and by his curiosity about just how CleanSweep could fit his purposes.

Judging the moment, Charles Claussen pulled four folders from his case, and handed one to each of the other three men. The cover had the same insignia that had opened the video presentation the night before, a bold design with the term
CleanSweep
artfully embedded in the graphic.

“Before I begin,” Claussen said, “I would like to make a personal observation. You are about to hear the details of a far
-
reaching plan that will shape our world for the better. It is not without some risk. Earlier attempts at social engineering have each contained a fatal flaw
—
or two.”

The other three men waited, willing to let Claussen set the pace.

“Let’s start with Joseph Stalin and Adolf Hitler, the Big Two. They let the personal rivalry between them turn into a vendetta. They were both blindsided by greed. They worshiped at the altar of expansion. They each believed in their right to global supremacy, and they were obsessed with exporting their brand of ideology.

“Focus on those issues was a distraction. It took their attention away from an essential internal goal. They should have remained focused on eliminating the undesirable elements that were eating away at their countries from the inside, like cancer. They both allowed their egos to sway them from programs that were designed to cleanse,” he paused, as if searching for the right words to say next.

“To be frank, they didn’t
invent
ethnic cleansing, but they tried to perfect it. Stalin swung a blunt hammer and was successful at getting rid of those he considered to be the disagreeable detritus of the Soviet Union
—
enemies. Then he became obsessed with his
imaginary
enemies. His big mistake was eliminating his best military thinkers just before he needed them the most.

“Hitler, on the other hand, was more of a planner. He insisted on systematic processes. First, the Germans organized their intelligence gathering. They began identifying what they saw as the negative elements in their midst, both political and social. Then they organized a way to take unwanted people into custody for questioning and detention. Their organized network of work camps was brilliant.

“Imagine what he could have accomplished without the unnecessary wars for
Lebensraum
, the German word translated as ‘living room.’ He should have finished the internal cleansing before he tried to expand Germany’s borders.

“My own grandfather was an engineer for Hitler, and proud to have helped design many of the camps. He helped supervise the construction of the walled ghettos in Poland as well. He created spaces that funneled people into a single location, making it easy to transport them to work camps later.”

Claussen’s eyes filled with tears, an unexpected display of emotion. “He’s the one who gave me the inspiration for CleanSweep, and also offered advice on how to avoid the pitfalls, the mistakes both Hitler and Stalin made.”

Waverly started to say something, but Claussen held up his hand.

“Let me finish, please. The Germans were skilled craftsmen who misused their tools. The people in their camps were valuable resources, like tools. They should have been taken care of and used
—
not abused. With a minimum of food and basic health care, they would have continued to be productive workers. My grandfather even devised a formula for the exact amount of daily calories that would be needed to keep people strong enough to work.”

“Then the camps in Germany turned into killing machines,” Winston said.

“That was part of their mistake,” Claussen said. “They worked able
-
bodied internees to death, convinced they could be replaced by the next trainload of workers. That was inefficient
—
something any engineer could have told them.

“As their camps became jam
-
packed, they needed a way to get rid of people who would never be productive workers, though. To be sure, they had to dispense with those prisoners who put a strain on already
-
scarce food supplies. For those people, the extermination techniques, while necessary, were ghastly. I don’t want us to make the same mistake.” He pointed to the cover of the report. “As you read this, you will see that our procedures have been designed to make sure the methods for any necessary ‘eliminations’ are compassionate.”

He looked at each of the three in turn to judge their reactions.

“CleanSweep also isn’t about world domination,” Claussen continued as the full import of what he had just said registered with the other three men.

“I am suggesting a plan that will serve as a template. We will start with a pilot project, and once we show how effective
…
Well
…
” He stopped. “Open your folder and take out the map. It’s not stapled to the rest of the report.”

He waited while the others looked at the letter
-
size, full
-
color maps in their folders.

“You will note the red line, which is the border of the area to be initially covered by CleanSweep. Look at the outline that starts in the east of the city and extends in an arch over it. It continues westward, and from there the line sweeps down to the lake.”

Charles started to laugh. “Compare that to
this
map.” He held up a map of the entire country. “This region,” he began, pointing to the area he had just indicated on the map, “has a large population according to the latest national census. While it is only a small dot on the map of our nation, it will provide a sufficient statistical sample, enough to prove viability. It will serve as a template. If we can make CleanSweep work here, it can be transplanted to any city.

“More than eighty
-
five percent of the crime and social evils we face are rooted in urban areas. Turn to the first two pages. The figures there are the latest. These outline the problem the country faces. I can start with immigration.

“Our area shows the nation’s largest growth in numbers of immigrants. Many are illegal. Hand in hand is the surge in gang activity, homosexuals, the mentally ill, the homeless, and other bloodsuckers
—
all freeload off welfare programs. All of them claim they are merely victims of an uncaring government and society, but they line up, waving signs demanding their so
-
called ‘entitlements’ from that same government.

“Immigrants arrive with the idea that this country owes them something. We used to screen new applications to make sure they fit in with our true conservative values, supported our belief in hardworking families and faith. Now, just like they’re doing to our good American neighbors to the south, they stream through our porous borders like cockroaches. The liberals in charge even pay the airfare for terrorists disguised as refugees!”

Spencer and Waverly both harrumphed in stereophonic unison.

My amen corner
, Claussen thought.

“Let us move on now to the details of CleanSweep’s operations. It was the summer of our discontent,” Claussen said. Then he added, “With apologies to Shakespeare and Steinbeck.” He waited for his audience of three to turn the page to the next part of his proposal. “This country was proud to sponsor the 2010 international conference. Our leaders assured us it would showcase our nation and our city in the best international light.”

The others nodded in understanding.

“Instead, the liberal media had a field day with the rioting and delighted in showing photographs and videos of burning cars, broken windows, and crowds on the rampage everywhere. The scenes still live on TV, YouTube, Facebook, and the like today. And we will never know the damage caused by all the private instant messaging and texting.

“Our fine police did what they could. The city police force was bolstered by hundreds of officers from all over the country. It was a small army of police, in fact. It was an integrated security force, but it was
still
outmaneuvered. Turn to page eleven and the map.” He waited while the others flipped pages.

“They set up five patrol areas in the city. The goal was to document, or at least card, people who were up to mischief.”

“There were plenty of those,” Waverly said with a sniff. “All the agitators slipped in across our roadblocks. They were just looking for a way to make us look bad.”

“Our police officers were very busy,” Claussen went on. “They used the carding system to interview hundreds. Of course, civil libertarians whined and complained, as expected.”

“Don’t they always?” This came from Spencer.

“Documenting citizens in noncriminal interactions is a valuable tool. The police know how valuable it is to be able to sift through gathered data and weed out the criminals.” Claussen smiled. “All they were doing was recording some names, ages, names of associates, religion, and skin color. Then they sorted it all by codes for categories like ‘routine investigation’ or ‘suspicious activity.’ I did a little research of my own, and I know it’s a practice used by police all over the world
—
and has been for decades. But should we be surprised it caused a predictable knee
-
jerk reaction from liberals?” Claussen’s voice dripped with venom.

“They want to make the police look like the bad guys. It serves their aim,” Waverly added.

Claussen glared at the interruption. “My computer team gained access to the police records and the database from that summit. It’s a treasure trove, lists the criminals among us. So
-
called interactions with the public turned up thousands of pocket
-
size cards called field information reports.”

“If someone isn’t doing anything wrong, they shouldn’t object,” Spencer Abbot said.

Claussen was annoyed at this second interruption, but kept his bristling hidden. “The police also set up a temporary jail location to handle the sudden surge of arrests
—
over eleven hundred. It was the largest mass arrest in the city’s history.

“What I am about to tell you is a secret known only to a handful of my most trusted aides
…
” Claussen paused. The others leaned forward, eager to hear this part. Claussen knew that by talking in a low, dramatic voice, the others would be required to concentrate to hear him, would have to give him their full attention.

“My head of security, Angela Vaughn, sent me a report on the security provisions for two years leading up to the previous international summit. She had a contact in a small city to the west of here. He passed along a story about a man there by the name of Gustav Brunner. Well, to be accurate, his name is really Ralph Patterson, but he didn’t think that sounded Germanic enough. He changed it to Brunner, and it wasn’t long until he was leading a close
-
knit group of skinheads in goose
-
stepping, Nazi
-
saluting, and hanging swastika flags from their apartment balcony railings.

“The authorities moved quickly to make them remove the flags, claiming they were a symbol of hatred. I see that as yet another example of misguided local officials stepping on free expression. Do
-
good liberal activists soon made it uncomfortable for Brunner and his group to stay there. When Brunner’s companions tried to organize rallies and marches, their enemies made sure they didn’t get the attention they craved.